Knee Deep in June, Souvenirs from the Desert
I used to sit in the bottom roasting dirt of the broiling desert sun, sifting it, looking for sand rubies. My right hand picked up a small amount of dirt, my left hand searched through it, my eyes honing in on the one dark and blood red spot, another sand ruby. They were always the size coarsely ground pepper corns and difficult to amass. I, optimistically, had a large empty mayonnaise jar to hold my collection. There was a desert child legend, what you would call an urban myth today, that the... Sign in to see full entry.